Metaphor
by Gemeni9000
Summary: A metaphorical short story of Silverbolt........


Disclaimer: I don't own transformers, beast machines. The characters in this fic  
belong to mainframe and Hasbro.   
This isn't supposed to be a summary of what happened when Silverbolt was killed.  
More like some dream someone had or something. Jetstorm and Silverbolt are one  
and the same, which is mostly the point of this. It's meant to be all metaphorical.  
Look at the quote below. And no, I don't own messiah characters either. I own a  
game, but not the quote. This probably doesn't fit all that well into the transformer  
universe, but I thought it was worth a shot. Go ahead and review. I also take flames..  
  
The biggest difference was the colour. It wasn't the fresh green and the earthy browns  
that primitive Earth seemed to be made of, with a blue or grey sky. No. This place had  
a black, starry sky, and instead of green trees and a rocky ground, he was surrounded  
by glass towers and metallic walkways. It honestly didn't seem that depressing, save  
for the fact that nobody appeared to be around.  
  
Nobody? Well, there were some beings........ the silent, fierce robots that all looked  
the same.......they seemed to polulate most of Cybertron. They transformed too and  
from tank-like vehicles patrolling everywhere he looked, blasting him whenever he  
was spotted.  
  
Ever since he, and his fellow comrades landed on Cybertron, they had been chased,  
until the tanks began firing canisters of some type of virus, forcing them to transform  
to an earlier beast mode, and each of them began to forget......until each of them split  
up from each other.........  
  
And he was stuck as a mutant..... an odd mix between a bird and a wolf. But he had  
one advantage over the others.... he could fly, even in beast mode. So he lifted off into  
the air, out of range from those thoughtless tank bots. But where could he fly too?  
Was the entire planet after him and his shipmates? He couldn't tell, but at least he  
was out of the danger. He could get off the planet.....if he rembered where his ship  
was. And even if he found it he couldn't leave his friends behind. So that was what he  
decided to do next... find his friends. One name echoed in the back of his  
mind......Blackarachnia. Dark poison of his heart, he had to find her, and help her get  
out of the massacre that was going on below him. he swooped down from that endless  
black sky, towards the explosions of fire where he estimated his beloved to be near,  
trying to see the she-spider, spot her from the air.   
  
He circled among the tall metal buildings before landing on top of one, scouting the  
ground, searchimg between tank bots to see if he can spot her, or anyone who wasn't  
a tank, for that matter. For a while, he still could not see anyone he wanted to see. So  
he took a risk, to fly down, among the tank bots, to try and smell his way to  
Blackarachnia. If the tank bots tried to shoot him, well...... he could either find his  
comrades, or die trying. He could only hope no-one was in too great a danger.  
  
But, just as he was about to drop down, he spotted someone.... or something, streaking  
through the air. One though hit his mind... not a tank bot! Perhaps this jet bot could  
help with some answers as to what was going on in Cybertron now. He flew up to  
intercept the blue jet, and began to greet it. It gave no response. He swopped closer  
and questioned it, but it would not say a thing. Rather, it shot him in the jaw. It was  
then he realised that he was not alone with the jet bot in the air. Other, identical jet  
bots flew not too far behind the first one whom he was talking to, flying in a perfect  
formation. He realised that these jet bots were probably in the same leage as the tank  
bots on the ground. Seeing his mistake at flying closer, he began flying away as fast as  
he could, dodging and weaving away from the fired shots behind him. But where  
would he fly to?   
  
Cover. He needed cover.. and fast. there were plently of buildings that stood out of  
Cybertron's ground. He dove for one.... but there wasn't any opening in which he  
could enter. Well, he would just have to make one.  
  
He crashed his fleshy body through now broken glass, the shards cutting at him,  
slicing his organic armour. But he couldn't worry about that right then. He spun, as  
good as a dog can spin, to see what happened to his pursuers. They were flying right  
at him! Shooting the room in which he was in. The jet bots semed relentless, and  
would probably stop at nothing to catch him. Well, the wolf-bird growled at his  
attackers. If he couldn't lose them, he would have to stand and fight. Not much  
chance, being stuck in his beast mode, but he would have to try.  
  
The lead jet bot stopped just outside the window, almost a screeching halt save for the  
fact it was in mid-air where friction was at a minimum. And there, hovering outside  
the building, the jet bot transformed. Funny bot... his robot mode, blue, like his  
vehicle mode, had no legs. Not only that, but it looked like it was made of triangles.  
Angles everywhere. The other identical jet bots behing the first followed suite.  
Wishing he could transform himself, he growled once again and leapt at the aerobot,  
his teeth bared and talons ready.   
  
He latched onto the lead one's neck, biting at it, seeing if he could remove it. Yet,  
from shoulder-mounted blasters, the jet bot shot him in the chest. He kept his grip on  
the matallic jet bot, but his beast-mode's teeth did not seem to do much damage to it.  
He tried his talons, but the best they did was scrtach up the jet bot's paint job. The jet  
bot continued firing at him until he fell off the hovering transformer, limp, injured.  
He couldn't stand up to these monstrocities. His vision began to blur, and all he could  
feel was despair, defeat, pain and fear. He was alone, in the hands of his enemies,  
with little hope left......  
  
His entire world then flipped around........  
  
He laughed maniacally. The furball was weak, and couldn't even transform. It tried,  
but it was no match for him. He saw despair in his victim's optics, and leered, in that  
mouthless way he usually did, with his eyes. Hovering over his prey, he produced a  
spark extractor, issued to him by his boss, and prepared to take his spark that he was  
ordered to take. The furball struggled. But it was beaten, helpless. It yelled at him,  
cursing. But the spark extractor latched onto the dog-bird's chest, and began to  
produce that spinning ball of light known as a typical transformer's spark. The spark  
extractor sucked it into a compartment, locking it safely away. Again, he laughed  
maniacally, then transformed, and took off for the citadel, ready to hand in a spark to  
his boss. His armada transformed behind him and followed. Again, the spark  
struggled, shifting in it's compartment, it's mind already with the matrix. He just  
laughed again, and flew faster.   
  
"I'm not sure what the boss has in store for you...." He spoke. Then added  
sarcastically: "But I'm sure it would be pleasant........"  
  
"When I sleep I dream the same dream, and in that dream, I'm dying. Every night I  
watch myself die as if I'm the killer, and as I kill myself I experience happiness and  
joy, but as I die I scream in horror and fear. Every night I dream the same thing, and  
as the nights go on I get scared. I really shouldn't have any fear of dying for I dwell  
within the nirvana of heaven and I've walked in the valley of death. But maybe this  
isn't a dream..."-Bob, /messiah/ 


End file.
